Rosebuds
by Nemarra
Summary: She thought she was free once the games were over, but Snow was not going to let her actions go unpunished. By the time she learns what the Capitol has done to her, it's already too late. "I would have thought you would be thrilled, Miss Everdeen." Starts before Catching Fire. Everlark.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All character, plot, and settings- exact or likeness- is owned by Suzanne Collins. I'm just playing in the sandbox she has built._

 _THIS IS NOT A LEMON: Rating is for course language, thoughts of self-harm, Hunger Games level of violence, and sexual content. By sexual themes I mean: medical conversation, character nudity, or (maybe) implied sex. If you are reading this expecting smut, this is your heads up that you will not find it._

Rosebuds

Chapter 1

It started with pain.

Not anything serious, like running for your life in a burning forest, or being stung by dozens of tracker jackers. More of a mild irritation. Something similar to getting picked by a thorn while walking through the woods. Except I had been picked from inside.

I think I had known almost as soon as I had returned to District 12 that something was wrong. An instinct warning me, but I had no idea about what. I could not quiet place it, and so excused the feeling as a side effect of the trauma I had endured inside the arena of the 74th Hunger Games. Perhaps a paranoia, or something, that simply co-existed with the nightmares that leave me wrapped in a suffocating blanket of terror.

Post traumatic stress; that's what my mother called it.

Yet, this idea inside me insisted that was not it. There was something very wrong. I had no idea how much I- how much _we-_ had been violated. Even now, as I look back in hindsight, my stomach churns and my blood boils. No matter the end result, the beginning should never had happened.

My bow was drawn with the cool of autumn tip-toeing over my cheek. A whisper that spoke of an early, and harsh winter creeping ever closer. I knew my mark was on point, but the sudden jolt in my stomach caused me to slightly jump. My arrow soared deeper into the forest having completely missed the squirrel I had been after.

For a moment, I was terrified. I worried that my illegal hunting had been discovered, and that President Snow was going to use it as an opportunity to have me assassinated. I was completely alone. No one would come looking for me until long after dark. By then, would there be anything left of me not picked by scavengers to prove my death had not been an accident?

I stand there, breathless. All of my senses were on high alert for danger, but there was nothing. Or maybe there was? I'm not certain what I had been expecting, but it had shaken me enough to abandon my hunt entirely.

It was only after I had crossed under the fence that I started to feel guilty for not returning with any game. Though my hunting was no longer needed to feed my family, the Hawthornes did. What's more, Gale had looked after my mother and sister while I was trapped in the Capitol's horrible death lottery. I steadily grew more aggravated with myself for being so easily scared off by a... by a muscle cramp!

By the time I had returned to my home in the Victor's Village, my insides were wound tighter than a snake. I cursed the Capitol. From their unnatural bright clothing to their stupid accents, and, most of all, their sick sense of entertainment. I had started conducting a mental list of anyone I knew that could have been at fault.

The obvious was President Snow.

When I couldn't think of a one hundredth angle to be made at him, I decided Effie was to blame too. She had been the one to pull Prim's name from the bowl, after all.

Oh, and my prep team were on my list, too.

Not Cinna, though. He might have been the only person in the entire Capitol that was trying to help me make it back home to my family outside of a pine box.

Somehow, even Haymitch was at fault. Not a fair judgement since he had no more control of the Games than any other victor, but that was my mood set at that moment.

I stamped a foot down on the bottom step leading up my porch when I felt... something. A foreign sensation to my lower parts that caused my stomach to flip. It sort of felt like I was unexpectedly getting my period, but I knew better. For one thing, that particular annoyance had already happened only two weeks prior. I remembered clearly because it had been the first time I had bled since leaving the Games. I was ready to tear out my entire reproductive track when I finally calmed enough- with help from some sort of tea from my mother- to remember I wasn't dying.

For another, it didn't feel like blood. It was too think.

An embarrassing heat flushes my face, and I run inside. I don't stop to remove my boots or my dad's old hunting jacket. I think I had thrown my game bag to the floor, but I'm not sure. It wasn't with me when I reached the bathroom.

I did not even acknowledge my mother's voice calling out.

In an instant, my pants are a balled up mess on the floor. The same could be said for me as a sat with my back against the door. My hands are shaking as I hold out my underwear. There's something stuck to the inner lining. A glossy heap of silver slim, and an obvious microchip in it's centre. It is unlike anything I have ever seen before, which was enough to confirm to me that it was Capitol made.

What was it?

Could it be a tracker? Was I being spied on?

Maybe it was something meant to slowly poison me. A way to kill me without suspicion because it would look like I had come down with some illness or another.

I am jolted back to reality by frantic knocking on wood against my back. I hear my mother on the other side, but my mind was too fuzzy to comprehend what she was saying. I recognize my name, but I can't catch my breath to answer. My wide eyes remain trained on the thing that had been inside me.

The knob is turning, and I feel my mother pushing with all her strength. It's not enough to move me, though. "Katniss? Are you alright? Let me come in, sweetheart." My nerves are not soothed by her tone.

By now, I'm caught up in a replay of the Games. I see the boy from District 1 stumble with my arrow lodged in his neck. I can feel the mutts hot breath as they snarl up at me.

Rue. Poor sweet Rue laying in a bed of wildflowers. She would have looked so peaceful were it not for the spear in her middle.

I know I'm hallucinating. I know what I'm seeing is just memories of horrors that have happened. Yet, the longer I linger in my madness, I begin to wonder what's real. Maybe they are not memories. Maybe the last seven weeks have been the illusion and I'm actually still in the arena under the effects of tracker jacker venom. That has to be it. I'm dying still there. I never left the Games, and this bit of goo was the only thing anchoring me back into the truth.

It's getting harder to breathe.

I must have swallowed those nightlock berries. There was no announcement to save Peeta and I. I'm sure I'm dying. I can picture myself as stiff as Foxface.

The knocking has started, again. I had hardly noticed that mom had stopped to begin with. This time is much firmer than my mother is capable of, though.

"Katniss?!"

It's Peeta. At least, I think it's his voice.

There's a hard shove against my back. My trance is broken, but only because I drop my undergarments trying to keep myself balanced.

"Open the door, Sweetheart," Haymitch's voice is almost completely void of slur. There is still enough to indicate he's heavily intoxicated.

I feel the wood moving again. This time, I muster a little strength to slide away from the entrance. It swings open in an instant, and Peeta is the first to squeeze himself in.

"Katniss, are you alright?"

I can't speak. I can only helplessly stare up into his dazzling blue eyes. They are full of worry. Guilt bubbles up, and makes me feel nauseated. I must be really scaring him if he's forgotten that he's supposed to be angry with me.

All at once, his presence grounds me. He is alive. As am I. We are the victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Together.

We only pulled that off because the Capitol thinks we are madly in love. Except I don't return Peeta's feelings. I admitted my lie during out train ride back to District 12, which is why he is supposed to be upset with me.

I watch as he looks me over, once, and then his cheeks grow pink. He quickly unzips his fall sweater, and uses it to cover my lower half just as Haymitch and my mother enter the room, as well. I become acutely aware of the cold tile against my bare backside. It's not the cool hand of death overtaking me as I had believed moments ago. I can feel my entire face light up.

I am incredibly thankful that Peeta is such a gentlemen. He's far too good a person for a world like this.

The moment is broken by Haymitch's gruff shout, "What the Hell, Sweetheart?"

His words were quickly overshadowed my mother rushing to my side, "Katniss, what's wrong? Tell me what happened."

My mouth opens and shuts, but I cannot seem to form words. I look down at the fallen garment nestled between my leg and Peeta's. Their eyes train in on it, too. He picks it up, but his face turns a glowing shade of red upon realizing what he is holding. Bashfully, he offers it out to my mother.

She takes one look at them, and then her expression softens. She sets a gentle hand on my wrist. "Katniss, listen to me. It's okay. It's just your menstrual cycle, remember? We talk about this last time."

I'm starting to feel light-headed from the blood rushing to my face. Peeta does not seem to be fairing any better according to the blonde tomato that has replaced him.

"No! That's not it. Inside," I plea.

Thankfully, I do not need to attempt explaining any more. My mother takes the time to actually inspect the fabric. Her eyebrows furrow at the same time as Haymitch leans over to see as well.

"What is it?" Peeta's gentle voice is still thick with concern. It makes me sick.

"It was inside me." My voice cracks, and my lower lip is trembling. "It's from the Capitol." I'm starting to grow unsteady, once more. My grey eyes are clouding over with haunting images. "The Games... this isn't real. I'm still in the Games."

Strong hands grip my shoulders, and Peeta's voice is clear in my ears, "Katniss, look at me."

I do.

"You're not in the Games anymore," he assures me. "You're safe, back in District 12. No one is going to hurt you."

Logic tells me that's a lie. The Capitol is always watching. Any Peacekeeper could march in here, drag me outside, and shoot me if President Snow orders it.

Still, the look in Peeta's eyes are far too intense for me to disbelieve him. I reach up to grasp my hands over his, and lean my head in so that my forehead just touches his chin. He does not hesitate to pull me in closer to him. I take comfort in being surrounded by his warmth. The scent of baked goods lingers on his shirt.

My temporary sanctuary slips away when Peeta softly asks, "Do you know what it is, Haymitch?"

I peer over Peeta's shoulder. Haymitch is standing with my underwear in his hand. His features are deeply puzzled.

He finally answers with his own question, "You said this thing came out of you?"

"Yes," I respond without hesitation.

"I'm guessing you mean it came out of your hooch."

I can see my mother lips begin to for a thin line from my peripheral view. If she had been Effie Trinket, I'm sure she would have said something about his bold statement.

I'm at a loss for words, so I nod. As if I was not embarrassed enough, he then proceeds to stick a finger into the silver mess. When he pulls it away like Mom does when she has checked the shelves for dust, only a thin layer of slim sticks to his finger.

He starts to rub the little bit of goo between his finger and thumb. "My first guess is that is was some kind of tracker..."

My stomach plummets upon hearing him say that, but he continues.

"... except why would they put it somewhere that it can fall out? Especially if you two were bumping ugly-s like normal teenagers do when their in love."

"Do you think that might be what it was for?" Peeta pipes in. "To make sure that we were... uh, acting like lovers do?"

Haymitch shakes his head as he wipes his hand on his pants, "Nah. If that was the case, it would have stayed in as long as Sweetheart here keeps her legs shut." Then he cocked an eyebrow, and looked me dead in the eye. "Unless you're just coming back from the Slag Heap."

"No," I firmly growl a warning. "I was out hunting when I started to get a pain in my abdomen."

"Well, then I have no idea what it is." He checks it over again. "It's probably some sort of Capitol medicine. It kinda feels like those hang-over pills Trinket gives me during the games."

"A Gel-release capsule?" My mother supplies. Her shoulders are visibly relaxing.

"That sounds about right to me," he shrugs.

"What's a gel-release..." I trail off, unable to remember the rest of what my mother called the blasted thing.

"Capsule," Mom finishes. "The gel is a coating that is meant to hold the medicine inside it until it's inside the body. Once it is inside, it dissolves. The apothecary has some cold remedy from the Capitol that uses gel-release capsules."

I can feel the tension in Peeta's muscles begin to ebb, as well. "So everything is fine?"

"For what I can tell," Haymitch nods.

"But why would they put it... in my..." I cannot say it. After all my blushing, I'm sure my olive skin will permanently hold a red tinge to it for the rest of my life.

My mother supplied the explanation, "Gel release capsules normally require stomach acid to break them down. The vaginal canal does have it's own level of acidity to help stave off bacteria and infections. It's not nearly as strong as stomach acid, though, so perhaps they were counting on it to slowly break down the gel. It could, theoretically, work as both a slow release, and a quick absorption."

The room goes silent as we take in the information. Reluctantly, I start to pull away from Peeta.

It all makes sense. It could have just been medicine left over from when the doctors patched me up after the Games. I briefly return to my poison theory, but if that thing has been dissolving inside me for this long, I would already have been sick.

"So that's that," Haymitch cuts the silence. "Guess I should go throw this out. Unless you want your underwear back to try to wash this shit out?"

I was going to agree to washing, since I only had so many pairs. Then I remembered that I have more money than I know what to do with. I can afford a hundred new pairs if I wanted. So, I shake my head.

Haymitch uses that as an excuse to leave. My mother and Peeta help me get to my bed. I'm incredible stiff as I climb up from the floor. I wonder how long I had been sitting in here. It does not help that I am clinging to Peeta's sweater to ensure I'm not left exposed a second time in front of him.

Once I am nestled beneath the covers, my mother excuses herself to make some calming elixir. My nose wrinkles at the mention of the drink knowing I was not going to enjoy the flavour.

Peeta remains to help me out of my jacket. It reminds me that I can return his sweater to him since my privates are hidden beneath blankets.

"Thank you," I say as I hand it back to him.

There it is. The sweet smile that I had come to associate with Peeta. "Any time."

A quiet fills the space between us. Just as it's starting to grow awkward, Peeta is speaking again.

"I'm glad you're okay, Katniss."

I was not okay, though. Neither Peeta nor I knew that at the time. Yet, just like the moment I volunteered in place of my sister...

Just like the moment I chose to die with Peeta instead of become the Capitols puppet...

From that day, my life had once again changed course. And there was no going back.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, I pulled a dumb move. Forgot to add which characters were involved making it near impossible to reach to the correct readers. Oops! Anyway, welcome new and old readers._

Chapter 2

I wish I could claim that incident had opened a new chance to be friends with Peeta. Unfortunately, with exception of him coming to check on me the following morning, things returned to being cool politeness.

As disappointed as I was, I knew I had no right to ask anything more from him. I let it be, and buried myself into excessive hunting. I used the excuse that I was doing it to compensate for Gale, since he had started work in the mines. Really, it was just a reason to be away from the Peeta, and the Victor's Village.

Soon enough, I had something else to worry about.

It started with headaches. Small pinches, at first, which I allowed to pass as nothing. Then, one afternoon, I am hit with a sudden sense of dizziness. I loose my footing, and slam to the leaf covered ground. I had only just caught myself. Yet, the fall had still caused me to slightly twist my ankle. Not enough to sprain it, but still enough for my mother to insist I stay off it for a day.

Since the silver piece had fallen out of me only three weeks prior, I instantly blamed it.

When I mentioned it to Haymitch, he looked on with boredom, "You sure you're not stressing yourself out?"

"I'm being serious," I growl.

"So am I," he countered, and then took a swig of his current liquid lunch. "You're still wound up from the Games, and that goo in your undies left you unsettled. You're instincts are still telling you to be on high alert, but there's no obvious danger, so you're looking for a reason to panic. What you need to do is to calm down before you give yourself an aneurysm."

I had to admit, it made sense. For another week and a half, I tried to chock down my nerves. The headaches were still there, but I found that, when ignored, they were not a severe. Then, on the morning of the fourth day, I made it to the meadow, and promptly fainted. It was only lucky that I was still within the fencing, because I did not come to until almost sunset.

On unsteady legs, I hobbled my way back to the Victor's Village. My head feels like it's carved from stone. I was met half-way by Peeta. Apparently, Prim had gone to him when she learned no one had seen me all day.

"Are you alright? Where have you been?" he eyed my weary stance. His arms were slightly outstretched from his body as if ready to catch me.

There's an uncomfortable feeling in my gut. I'm not sure if I feel guilty for making him worry again, or if it's an empty stomach. Likely both. For this reason, I cannot lie to him, "I passed out."

I don't realize how closely he moves in front of me until his wrist is against my forehead. A blush sneaks its way onto my face, but he does not seem to notice.

"Katniss, you're burning a fever," his tone only just gives away his worry. Suddenly, he's at my side, and wraps a strong arm around my waist. Then he leads my arm to lay loosely across his shoulders. "Let's get you home."

We hardly reach twenty paces, and then I am crying.

Poor Peeta is trying to sooth me, "What's wrong?"

"You're so nice," I whimper. I hate how much I feel like a child. Why am I even crying?

Peeta is clearly just as confused by my words as I am.

"You're kind, and polite," the words come tumbling out. "You saved my life when you through that bread. Even though your mother beat you after."

With each syllable passing my lips, I am starting to wonder if I am loosing my mind. I am reminding myself of Haymitch, which results in me thinking that I may have been secretly intoxicated. I dismiss the thought as soon as it arises. If I had been drunk, surely it would have warn off hours ago.

Instead, I look up into his eyes. He is watching me from the corner of his eyes, I can tell. Thankfully, he is also paying attention to our path.

"Why would you fall in love with me?" I blurt out. Well, no going back from that.

I feel his body stiffen beside me. He is quiet for several moments. Then, the softest smile is on his lips. When he finally looks down to meet my gaze, I'm said to see those deep blues are almost mournful.

Or, perhaps, "longing" would be the better word.

"Because you're special, Katniss."

His answer leaves me breathless. I start to babble on about he would be happier with another woman. Someone who could love him like he deserves. It is mostly incoherent rambles as I feel myself slipping further and further out of consciousness.

I wake again. This time, I am safely tucked beneath a mound of warm blankets.

For the first day, I slept. My mother would occasionally wake me to ensure I downed some medicine, and used the toilet. It takes all my strength to do either. Within 5 minutes, I'm out again.

The second day is Saturday. I'm a little stronger than I was the day before. Any little movement, however, makes my head spin. Prim decides to bring in a chair to sit with me. She tells me stories about some school non-sense. I do my best to respond where appropriate. I am so warm, though, between my fever and my fabric cocoon, that I begin to doze off.

I dream of my father. We are walking in the woods. By now, I know the path well enough to know that he is taking me to the lake. His steps are purposeful, and my small legs are doing everything in their power to keep up with him. Yet, he moves as though he is unaffected by the uneven ground. He's getting farther and father away from me.

Then he stops. He is staring at something to his right.

"Look, Katniss," his voice is as warm as I remember.

I follow his vision to see a tree in the centre of a meadow. I recognize it as an apple tree, but, despite it being late fall, there are no apples. Still, he walks forward into the field of fallen leaves, and vibrant pink wild flowers. Once again, I follow his lead. With each step, I'm surrounded by a sweet perfume. When I reach him, I notice he's still looking at the tree. Curiosity draws my eyes back upwards.

There among the crisp brown and gold leaves are two perfect white blossoms.

My father smiles, "Do you remember what they mean?"

I don't. I am certain that I should, though. "Spring?"

He does not correct me. Instead, he kneels down, and plucks one of the wild flowers.

"Do you remember what this is?" he asks as he hands it to me.

Once again, I get the sense I should know, but I can't remember.

"Remember this," his tone seemed to hold some deep secret. Then he points up at the apple blossom's. "And remember them."

"Katniss?"

Prim's quiet voice startles me awake.

I give a groggy hum.

"I think I'm going to go outside for a little while."

My eyes close, but I reach out to lightly squeeze her hand. "Okay...I just need a quick nap. Let me know when Dad gets home. He's supposed to teach me how to hunt, today."

The room is eerily silent. I would believe my sister had left, except I can still feel her little hand in mine.

"O-okay," she finally squeaks.

I'm alarmed to hear she's on the verge of tears. My eyes shoot open. I have to force down the wave of bile that wants to sneak up my throat when I try to lift myself. "What's wrong, little duck?"

Her eyes are wide as her mouth hangs open. Her jaw is moving up and down as if she is trying to speak, but cannot find the words.

"Prim," I grip her hand a little tighter. "Tell me what's wrong."

At last, she speaks, but her voice is shaky. "Nothing. I-I'm going to get Mom. I think you're fever might be getting worse."

She does not allow me the chance to respond. Her hurried steps race out the door, and I can hear her crying out for our mother before she even reaches the stairs. Though I feel off about the way she was acting, I know I cannot feasibly go after her to get my answers. My aching muscles force me back against my pillows.

For several long minutes, I stare up at the popcorn ceiling making shapes from the ridges, and shadows. All the while, I find myself heavily blinking. Before I fully close my eyes, an image of wild flowers, and white blossoms lingers. I don't know why those specific flowers have popped into my head. Somehow I feel that they are important, though...

Dahlias, I realize. The wild flowers were dahlias, and the white ones were apple blossoms.


End file.
